


Stop Me

by mouseratstan



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Post-Break Up, Smut, angsty sex, basically just smut with a little plot, just slightly dom, slightly dominant ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24286009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouseratstan/pseuds/mouseratstan
Summary: Leslie and Ben are both drunk in Donna's hot tub, and they're not supposed to be together. But what happens in the hot tub, stays in the hot tub.Some inspiration from the hot tub scene in "Party Down" when we asked ourselves why Benslie never got moments like that. So this is for you, Ness.
Relationships: Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	Stop Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niseag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niseag/gifts).



It's a bad idea to approach Ben in the hot tub, Leslie knows this.

It's a very bad idea to come to him when it's dark, and he's only in swim trunks, and she's only in a bikini, and they both have alcohol in their systems. But it's been a very long day, and he looks so alone in the hot tub in Donna’s backyard, and she's already asleep, so what can it hurt?

The party has already faded. It's very late at night, and even Tom and Jean-Ralphio are passed out together on the couch, when they're the ones who suggested the party, and it's too quiet. And really, Leslie never sleeps anyway.

But Ben does. She knows from nights watching him breathe deeply into her pillows, pulling her closer at two in the morning to press kisses to her shoulders. There's a pang in her chest at the memory. Ben sleeps, but he is not sleeping now.

He watches her as she sinks into the hot tub, and he doesn't stop her. He knows it's a bad idea too, but it seems neither of them have much self control tonight.

“Hi,” he says to her, all the way on the other side of the pool.

Leslie manages a smile. “Hey.”

There's a very long, awkward pause.

“So, uh… can't sleep?” he asks.

“Nope. Especially not when I drink. I'm not even close to tired.”

“But… it's three in the morning, Leslie.”

She smirks at him. “Says the one who's also up right now, and doesn't look the slightest bit tired.”

Ben looks away from her now, into the water, pushing it around with his hands. She takes note of his chest, and the way he breathes deeply, and she kind of wants to rest her hand there. “I've just been thinking too much, I guess,” Ben admits. 

She quirks a brow. “Well… penny for your thoughts?”

“I…” he bites his lip, and that sight actually makes Leslie start to squirm a little. “In the interest of full disclosure, and at the fault of alcohol, I've been thinking about you.”

“I've been thinking about you too,” she gasps, the action sending her off the wall, a little closer to him. She notices his eyes quickly dart to her chest and then back to her face. “I miss you like crazy.”

“I miss you, too, Leslie…”

“I think about you all the time.”

“Good lord, I… I don't think I've stopped thinking about you even once since we broke up.”

“Even though you have a girlfriend now?” The question should make them pause, reevaluate their situation, but instead, it does the opposite. And maybe that's because Leslie is now directly in front of Ben, and there's hardly anywhere for him to put his hands anymore, and they're aching to grip her hips.

“Yes,” Ben admits, low in his throat, and his fingers graze the sides of her bare thighs. “Even then.”

And maybe it's because of the alcohol, or the hot tub, or his hands on her legs. Or maybe it's just because she kind of loves Ben but can't tell him that. Maybe it's because she doesn't care that he's dating Shauna Malwae-Tweep now because he belongs with Leslie, and his lips look soft, she really just needs to remember again how they feel on hers. Maybe that's why she kisses him.

But it's okay, she rationalizes, because Ben kisses back. And he's not careful about it either, crashing his lips against hers, dragging one hand out of the water to cup the back of her neck, tugging her into him, desperate and grabby and very personal. His fingers are digging into her hair at the nape of her neck and he is biting her bottom lip for her, and suddenly her chest is pressed to his and she's moaning into his mouth.

Ben still tastes the same. Saltier, wet from the pool, a hint of bitterness, maybe, from so many months away from her, but it's still her Ben. The Ben that knows just how to kiss her to get her to melt, the Ben whose hands fit perfectly at the curve of her waist, the Ben who smells like saltwater and lemons and like the future.

And then he pulls away. Almost violently, like he's just come into his right mind, pushing her back to the middle of the pool. He's breathing heavily, looking anywhere but at her. “That shouldn't have happened,” he gasps. “You… you shouldn't have done that.”

Leslie’s face falls, her hands itching to grab him again. “Why, because you have a girlfriend?”

“And you have a boyfriend!” he exclaims, gesturing with his hands. “You can't just… do that to me, not like this. It's not fair.”

“I… I’m kind of not seeing Mark anymore,” Leslie admits softly, staring at her hands. “We broke it off about a week ago.”

Ben stares at her. “And… and you didn't say anything?”

She shrugs. “You had Shauna. Who was I to ruin that?”

“But you're okay with ruining that now.”

“Don't forget that you kissed me back, Ben.”

“Fuck,” Ben mutters, and he runs his fingers through his hair, grabbing hold as if it's a lifeline. “Okay, Leslie, I need you to promise me something.”

She swallows hard. “Promise you what?”

“Promise me you'll stop me,” he gasps, and his hands fall back into the water, and when he looks at her again, there's a very different glint in his eyes. “Promise me, right now, that you'll stop me from doing this.”

“Ben—”

He's wading towards her, and she's stepping backwards, until her back touches the wall of the hot tub, and Ben is right in front of her. He's looking at her lips. “Stop me, Leslie,” he breathes, and his hands grip the pool edges on either side of her, trapping her in. “Tell me no.  _ Stop me _ .”

Of course, stopping him is the very last thing in her mind.

She opens her mouth as if to tell him that, that she can't promise a thing, but then once again he is kissing her furiously, this time with more reckless abandon, and she melts against his touch, the feel of him, his warmth, and, good god, she would never even dream of stopping him.

He's pushing her body up against the wall of the hot tub, allowing one of his hands to trail up her stomach and firmly grasp her left breast over her swimsuit top. Leslie wraps her arms around his neck and curls her fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough to elicit a moan from his lips.

He pulls away from her lips, just briefly. “Wear a high collared shirt tomorrow,” he instructs her, and just as she's about to ask why, he latches his mouth onto her neck and sucks, hard, scraping his teeth against the skin. Her eyes flutter shut, mouth opening, and his hand on her breast moves only so he can rip the tie off her bikini top and fling the fabric off her body.

“You're beautiful, you know that?” he mumbles into her skin, fingers rolling over a nipple. His hands fit perfectly on her chest, grasping tightly, holding her tightly against the wall, but the biggest surprise comes when he uses his leg to force hers apart, pressing his knee up between her legs, and there's just enough pressure there to make her gasp.

“Ben,” she whispers, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Ben.”

“Wait,” he tells her, and  _ goddammit,  _ she just thinks it's so sexy when he takes control like that, when he forces her to back down and relax and allow him to take the lead, so she lets him do it, lets him take things at his own pace, lets him tell her what to do, because it is very much working for her at the moment. 

His lips move from her neck to her breast, his tongue circling a nipple, teeth biting the sides, his knee rubbing at her swimsuit bottoms, just enough of a tease to make her squirm. She switches one of her hands from his shoulders to his hair, pulling again as if to spur him on, and he reacts in turn— by hoisting her up out of the hot tub to sit her on the edge, positioning himself between her legs.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, looking her in her eyes.

“You,” she tells him, but he shakes his head.

“What do you want me to do to you?”

Leslie blushes, feeling her cheeks go hot, because she's never really been very good at dirty talk. Ben  _ knows  _ this, and that's probably why he's doing this now. Leslie is hardly ever vulnerable, and sometimes Ben just likes to see her that way, just for him.

“I want you between my legs,” Leslie gasps, and Ben arches a brow. “Your face parts.”

“My face parts?” he quips, teasing her.

“ _ Yes.  _ Your face parts. Your mouth, preferably. You're very good with your mouth.”

“Is that so?” Ben is smirking, probably feeling satisfied with himself, and his fingers are right at the waistband of her swimsuit bottoms. “So… should I take these off, do you think?”

She knows what he's doing, and her resolve is slowly crumbling.  _ Dammit, he wins this time.  _ “Please,” she says, feeling the word out on her tongue. “ _ Please _ .”

He doesn't need to be asked twice. His fingers hook into the sides of her bottoms and slide them down her legs, tossing them to the side of the pool. And Ben doesn't hesitate. He grabs her hips and spreads her legs further, pulling her to the very edge of the hot tub, before dipping his head down. The second she feels his tongue, she gasps, arching her back, and god, it's so much better than she remembers it.

He slides a finger inside of her, which prompts her to remember exactly how long Ben’s fingers are, and they are  _ long _ . He pushes in and out while his tongue works on her clit, and while before he was slow, teasing, methodical, now he is hungry and powerful, strong and steady, building her up faster than she's ever remembered it before.

Leslie whimpers at the feeling, gripping his hair like a lifeline, and it doesn't take long at all for her to not even be able to keep her eyes open anymore, her head thrown back and her back arched. He adds a second finger, this time pumping faster, his head between her legs, and good god, he knows exactly what he's doing to her, the confident bastard. He knows her too well, he knows exactly what sounds she starts to make when she's about to finish, exactly how her body starts to move when she's close, and just how to push her over the edge completely.

So he's okay with it when she's practically tearing his hair out of his head. He's very okay with it when her legs are tossed over his shoulders and her thighs clench around his ears, because he can feel exactly how badly they're shaking. And he only starts to slide in quicker and eat her faster when her tiny whimpers change into full moans, low in her throat, maybe a little too loud for Donna’s backyard, but neither of them care about that. 

“Ben,” she moans, so close she can't say a thing but his name. “Ben.  _ Please _ .”

And there's that word again, that damn word.  _ Please _ , and he's sending her over the edge, a moan too close to a shout ripping from her throat, stars in her tightly closed eyes. Her thighs clench hard around Ben’s head and maybe he's suffocating, but he definitely doesn't care about that, because there are worse places to die than between Leslie Knope’s legs.

He's almost certain he's lost a few strands of hair and he's gasping for breath by the time Leslie's shaking subsides, lowering her legs back into the hot tub. It's warm, and makes her feel even more wobbly. She's not even going to try to stand up or walk, not for several minutes, because god, Ben Wyatt is good at undoing her.

She's still breathing heavily when Ben wraps his arm around her hips and lowers her back into the hot tub. He can feel, with their bodies pressed together, how she's still shaking, and a self-satisfied smirk stretches onto his lips.

Their touches turn gentle before long, and Ben presses his forehead against hers. Her eyes are still fluttered shut, keeping him from seeing their blue.

It takes Leslie several minutes to find her voice again.

“You're going to have to break up with Shauna,” she says, matter-of-factly. “You know that, right?”

Ben sighs, kissing her gently. “I know.”


End file.
